Final Breath

make two people feel closer than ever--for a while anyway. They were terrific together, everyone said so. She'd bought into all of Sydney Jordan's teamwork talk.

Leah had liked Sydney a lot. For someone who was on TV, she was very down to earth. Sydney had made her feel so relaxed; Leah had almost admitted to the Movers & Shakers correspondent that she'd had some doubts about her relationship with Jared. But she'd decided not to spoil the TV-packaged image of this brave, selfless couple who were very much in love.

In fact, it was how Leah wanted people to think of her.

So now she and Jared had set the date. The rerun of their Movers & Shakers segment for On the Edge only made her feel more pressure from everyone about this damn wedding. That program also produced another strange side effect. Lately, Leah couldn't get over the sensation that someone was watching her.

It wasn't anything she could put her finger on. But lately, while riding the Metro to and from work, or eating her lunch--whether in a restaurant or in the park--she'd suddenly feel someone spying on her. She'd glance around at people in the general vicinity, but Leah never caught anyone staring.

'Oh, you're just picking up on people recognizing you from On the Edge,' Jared had told her. 'It's nothing. Don't be so paranoid.'

She couldn't help it. Something very bizarre and unsettling had happened a few days before the rerun had aired. She'd come home from work, and immediately realized someone had been in the apartment. She must have missed him by only a few minutes, because it smelled different in there. A stranger's body odor still lingered in the air. Nothing was missing. But the sweaters on her closet shelf were askew, and the clothes in her dresser drawers were slightly messed up. Strangest of all--the intruder had urinated in their toilet and left it there un-flushed with the seat up. She knew it wasn't Jared. He never did that. Just to be sure, she checked with Jared and their apartment manager and verified that neither one of them had been in the apartment that afternoon.

But later, after Leah had explained her concerns to him, Jared shrugged and said he must have been in a hurry that morning and used the bathroom without flushing.

Leah wanted to have the locks changed, but Jared told her she was being silly. 'C'mon, honey, think about it. Why would someone break in, not steal anything, but then pee in our bathroom--and leave it un-flushed?'

'Maybe he wants us to know he's been here,' she remembered telling Jared. 'Maybe he wants us to know he's coming back.'

'That's just crazy.'

So maybe their intruder was insane. This crazy person had relieved himself in their bathroom as some kind of nasty calling card.

Leah had been on her guard ever since.

The dryer let out a loud buzz, startling her. Leah tossed aside the magazine, got to her feet, and unloaded the warm, dry clothes. She started to fold the pants and T-shirts on the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow move beyond the chain-link door to the storage room. It's just your imagination, she told herself. She went on folding clothes, but picked up the pace a bit.

She peered over toward the storage room again--and noticed the shadow once more. It definitely moved. A chill raced through her, and she stood perfectly still for a moment. Clutching a warm T-shirt to her chest, she gazed at the dark room beyond the gatelike door. Leah moved her head from side to side and watched the shadow do the same thing.

She heaved a sigh. 'Moron,' she muttered. 'Scared of your own shadow.' Her heart was still fluttering, but Leah forced herself to step over to the chain-link door. In the murky darkness, she could make out the first few storage lockers and the piles of junk inside them--boxes, old bicycles, and things covered with furniture blankets. Leah couldn't see anything past the third set of lockers. The rest of the room was swallowed up in blackness.

She retreated to the table and continued folding clothes. Most of the clothes were Jared's. She should have made him come down here and get his own damn laundry. But he'd stepped out for a few minutes. They were going with friends to watch the fireworks tonight, and he wanted to pick up some beer.

Another shot rang out in the distance, followed by three more. Get used to it, she told herself; they'll be lighting off firecrackers all night and half of tomorrow. She always felt sorry for the poor dogs and cats traumatized by the barrage of bangs and blasts on July Fourth.

Leah continued folding laundry. She still couldn't shake the feeling that someone else was down there-- watching her. Only three more T-shirts, and then she'd get the hell out of there. She could match up the socks once she was safely inside the apartment.

Leah heard the old elevator across the hallway suddenly start up with those mechanical knocks and pings, and then the humming. It sounded like the elevator was headed down to the basement.

She quickly folded her last shirt, then tossed the socks on top of the stack of clothes. The elevator had stopped down at this level, she could tell. But she didn't hear the door open or the inner gate--an accordion-like contraption--clanking. Leah reminded herself that sometimes people pressed the 'B' button, but got off on the ground floor instead. That was probably what had happened.

Gathering up the pile of clothes, she headed toward the door. But she hesitated before stepping out to the hallway. Leah gazed down the gloomy little hallway. The elevator door was closed--along with the doors to the stairwell and garage. Carrying the stack of laundry, her chin pressed against the mountain of socks on top, she hurried toward the elevator. She was about to press the button, but didn't have to. The elevator was already on the basement level. With one hand, Leah flung open the door, steadied it with her hip, then pulled at the gate. The whole time, she felt as if someone was coming up behind her.

She ducked into the elevator so quickly that a few socks fell onto the cubicle's dirty floor. She shut the gate. The outer door closed by itself. Leah jabbed at the button for the third floor. The cables let out a groan, and the elevator started moving. She slouched against the wall and let out a sigh. How could she have let herself get so worked up and scared over nothing?

Maybe it was having been reminded so recently about her brush with death. That, and the weird break-in they'd experienced. Perhaps this was some kind of delayed post-traumatic stress syndrome or something.

Creaking and humming, the elevator passed the ground floor and continued its ascent. Leah caught her breath. She managed to balance the load of laundry, then squatted down and retrieved the socks from the floor. She heard another muffled bang. It seemed a little closer than the others. Rolling her eyes, she reminded herself again to get used to it.

When the elevator stopped on the third floor, Leah tugged the gate to one side and pushed the outer door open with her hip. In this very familiar corridor--with its ancient, burgundy swirl-patterned carpet and her neighbor's fake ficus by the elevator--she felt safe again.

But then Leah saw the door to her and Jared's apartment was open a crack. She froze. She'd closed and locked the door before going down to fetch the laundry. Since that bizarre break-in last week, she always locked the door, even when stepping out for only a few minutes.

Jared probably came back, dummy, she told herself. Leah pushed the door open with her shoulder. 'Jared?' she called. 'Honey, are you back? Did you get the beer?'

No answer.

Standing in the small foyer area with the stack of clothes in her hands, Leah stared straight ahead at the living room, but she didn't see Jared. To her left was the kitchen entrance. She poked her head in there. Recently remodeled, the kitchen had green granite countertops and all-new stainless-steel appliances. A six-pack of Coronas was on the counter by the sink, but the grocery bag next to it was on its side, with loose beer bottles spilling out. One bottle had rolled across the counter, and another had fallen onto the black-and-white linoleum floor, although it hadn't broken.

'Jared?' she called again. 'Honey, are you okay?'

She set the laundry on the breakfast table, and then continued to the dining room and living area. The bedroom door was open, but she didn't see Jared in there. Off the living room a narrow corridor led to the linen closet and bathroom. They had another door to the bathroom in their bedroom.

'Jared? Honey, what's--' she hesitated.

A musky odor hung in the air. Leah had smelled it before--two weeks ago, when someone had broken into the apartment and left his crude calling card in their toilet.